


relics

by cmndr shrillsqueak (HorribleDynne)



Category: Transformers: Prime, Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Bottom Megatron, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Sticky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Sex, Valve Fingering (Transformers), Valve Oral (Transformers), Valve Plugs (Transformers), and his waist is SNATCHED, did you know rid megatron actually had a design, grimbee mention, thank u jose lopez nnnnn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorribleDynne/pseuds/cmndr%20shrillsqueak
Summary: in a peace that is and isn't their own, optimus and megatron feel like mechlings again.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 8
Kudos: 153





	relics

**Author's Note:**

> https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DxN9fLhWsAAiT2s.jpg do you see this lad??? i'm very sad he wasn't in the show now. i'm not sure if the stuff i've heard about him being some kinda vigilante who's more of a anti-hero are true but MAN i'd have loved that.
> 
> sometimes i just rlly crave rid15 megop. token evil teammate is great. i just wish the show was better written, but HEY thats what fanfic is for right? 
> 
> enjoy some porn. aligned megatron deserves to be eaten out till he cries.

Firelight cascaded over the junkyard walls, flickering on rusted metal and making the yawning gaps seem deeper and wider. And as the young bots before Optimus danced, laughing, to Denny’s soft guitar strums, a smile worked its way onto his face. Russell, the young boy, had already passed out asleep with his head pillowed on his fathers’ lap. 

Sideswipe kept harping on Strongarm to lighten up, her moves were too stiff. Grimlock swept Bumblebee into his arms, and the youngest mechs groaned. Optimus saw his former scouts’ face light up. Soft, loving warmth. Certainly, a look the Prime remembered giving a few times in his life. 

This was peace. Not his peace, exactly, but a peace he had made. The Well flowed with Newsparks, and mechs like those before him could live without war. Not perfect, but no peace ever was. And as Sideswipe and Strongarm groused as Bumblebee and Grimlock swayed slowly to a softer tune, a ghost of a presence began lingering behind Optimus. 

Megatron had been staying behind him, always. It was uncharacteristic of a mech who had lived his life before roaring crowds of thousands, delivering speeches and felling mechs, but no less endearing. Besides, Optimus could relate to the awkward desire to fall into shadow. His own place in this new world was new, hard to fall into. But Megatron was familiar.

Megatron slunk close, chestplates brushing against his back, and a clawed hand ghosted by Optimus’ own. Affectionately, the old mech bumped their helms together as he rested his chin over the Primes shoulder. Optimus indulged him, letting their servos lace and leaning back into him. 

“Prime.” He rasped softly. 

“Mm. Are you hiding again?” Optimus wondered, tilting his head to raise his brow. 

“Of course not.” 

Their soft conversation had drawn a few optics. The novelty of Megatron existing amongst them had yet the wear off. Catching Sideswipe’s eye, he uttered a soft growl, letting his sharp teeth flash and resulting in startled yelp. 

Optimus scoffed and patted his side. “Manners.” 

“Manners? These mechlings ought to learn not to gawp.” But he settled, optics half lidded. 

They watched in silence, both a little too old and too proud to dance so freely, before Megatron nudged him. 

“Come to berth. It’s late.” His voice was low, not wanting to be overheard. Optimus hummed. 

“But it is a nice night.” 

Megatron snorted, wrapping his arms about the Primes waist. “And it will still be nice in berth. The commodities here are not particularly sheltered.” He blew out a hot breath to tickle Optimus’ audial. It flicked in response. Optimus did not move. 

He heard Megatron utter a low growl and pull him closer, nosing his way into his throat cables. He bit down, and tugged. “Prime.” His dark armor was hot, incessantly pressed against Optimus’ backstruts. 

Optimus gave a shudder and tilted his head, rubbing his so-much-more slender hip. “Mm. Alright. I’m coming.” Megatron grabbed his hand and tugged him, leading him away from the fire. “Good night everyone, don’t stay up too late now.” Optimus called as he was dragged away to the snickers of everyone except Bumblebee. 

He heard a faint, ‘ew’, but the sound slowly died as they wove through the dense stacked walls of the junkyard. As Optimus followed, he took in appreciatively Megatron’s new frame. The black wings that draped over his back, a trimmer waist than ever before, but still generous thighs to grasp and pull close. Unable to help himself, as his engine rumbled, he reached out to trace his slender digits over those wings. There were small nicks in the smooth metal, evidence of past battles. Megatron had never been one for buffing out scars. 

They flicked against his touches, and sharp red optics came to glance over his shoulder at him. Optimus smiled. 

“They are…. Cute.” 

Megatron’s scowl deepened as he turned, ducking into the small den they called their home. “There is nothing about me that is cute, Optimus.” 

“I beg to differ.” Optimus hummed softly, making himself comfortable on their berth. Before Megatron could get another snide remark in, he pulled the former warlord down with him. With a lapful of frowning Megatron, the Prime leaned forward and pecked his lips. There was a rumble, Megatron clearly battling with his own pride; getting in one final remark, or letting himself enjoy what he himself had been wanting so much only moments prior. 

He settled for the kiss, grasping Optimus’ helm and bringing him closer. He was in no mood for loving pecks, he wanted it hot, open mouthed and deep. Optimus had to agree, as he let the sharp teeth graze over his soft lipplating and ran his glossa against Megatrons. He fixed his servos appreciatively on that slender waist. Ages upon ages ago, he remembered how Megatro_ nus _ would wrap his huge claws about Orion’s hips. The _ hunger _ in which he drove his spike into him, grasping them so tight it crushed dents. 

He could certainly see the appeal.

To test the waters he held firm and rolled them forward onto his warm codpiece. Megatron hissed softly against him, open-mouthed and leaving himself prone for Optimus to claim his lips. He swallowed the low moan, rocking their groins together and letting a low charge build between them. It crackled through his frame, spreading heat that his vents struggled to pump out. 

Megatron's kisses became less aggressive, his wires falling slack as they rutted against each other. Optimus took the opportunity to pepper his face with softer ones, appreciating his flushed facial derma, the hazy look in his optics. He let one hand stray from his hips. It traced up his backstrut, dipping into the gaps between armor. This frame was so new, so different, and he couldn’t wait to relearn it.

Optimus reached his left wing, and an excited trill ran through him. He smoothed his servo over the expanse of black metal. It shuddered. Tracing over each edge, from wingtip to base, he heard Megatron groan. The wing chased after his touches, and Megatron buried his face into Optimus’ neck. 

The old mech was firmly rolling his hips without assistance now, and so Optimus let his other servo join the fun. He alternated touches between each wing. He’d pinch the tip of one, then dig his servos into the extended shoulder joint of the other. Megatron let out a shout, arms wrapping about Optimus, claws digging in slightly. 

“_ Optimus _…” He rasped, his tone airy and needy. 

His voice shot straight down to Optimus’ spike. 

It didn’t matter how much they had fragged since Megatrons’ arrival to earth. (Just about every day.) Optimus simply couldn’t get tired of unraveling him. He was not one to be so possessive, not like Megatron was, but the fact that only he could make him come undone thrilled him.

By now, Optimus could smell his lubricant, feel it dripping onto his groin. He delivered a few final strokes to make Megatron cry out, then nuzzled the side of his helm. 

“Lay down, please.” 

Megatron made a half-delirious noise and nodded. He unwound his arms from around Optimus and lowered himself onto his back. His panel was still firmly in place, but blue lubricant fringed the seal and oozed down his aft and thighs. Optimus hummed. 

He grasped those still-so-lovely thighs and spread them wide open, relishing in the rumble it elicited from Megatron. 

Optimus pressed a wet kiss to his hot panels, pressing his glossa flat and licking a stripe up where his valve was hidden. He tasted the sharp, sweet fluid. Meeting Megatron’s glazed optics, he tilted his head. 

“Open, Megatron.” 

One thigh twitched in his servo. He saw the energon rise brighter to the silver mechs face, looking away from the earnest intent in Optimus’ optics. Then, a soft wet snap as his panel retracted. 

Optimus wet his lipplates as he took in how wet he was. His valve had, perhaps unsurprisingly, changed little in their millenia apart. Red and copper-gold biolights fringed the edges, and topped with perhaps the most glorious prize of all, a burnished copper node. Optimus couldn’t help the delighted thrill that crackled through his hot, charged frame. 

Immediately he fastened his lips to it, sucking hot wet kisses against the sensitive bundle. Megatron’s legs jerked and a raspy shout was pulled from his throat. He could hear his ancient fans struggling. Optimus smiled, closing his optics. His glossa pressed flat against the base of his valve, licking steadily up to his node. It spread his pulsing valve lips apart, Megatron twisting as the pleasure fed to his processor. 

“Prime… Optimus, _ ngh _…”

A wet gush of lubricant rewarded Optimus as he sucked on his pretty node once more. Megatron’s gasps steadily grew louder, a claw coming to grasp his helm. Optimus smiled into him, rasping his glossa over the nub as Megatron ground his hips into his mouth. 

“You’re going to overload.” He stated simply, pulling away. His mouth was a mess, and a strand of lubricant broke off his glossa as he did so. Megatron _ whined _.

“Prime!” Megatron snapped in a tone Optimus hadn’t heard in awhile. 

He settled, if only slightly, when Optimus dipped a servo into his soaking valve. He appreciated the tight squeeze it earned him, rubbing the soft, wet mesh. It fluttered, welcoming his servo in greedily. He added a second, burying himself to the knuckle. Megatron’s valve stretched easily for him. Optimus’ spike begged for release, and with a rumble he let the codpiece snap back. 

Megatron wheezed as he cycled his valve down. It taunted his spike, a thick and throbbing chord that oozed transfluid from the tip. Optimus couldn’t deny how nice it would be, to bury it inside of Megatron right now. The silver mech rolled his slender hips, optics flickering off and on. He was burning up. Optimus knew it wasn’t quite fair for him to do this; Megatron’s valve was a sweetly sensitive treat. 

But, after all the teasing Megatronus had done to him- well, call it payback. Optimus dug his fingers into his ceiling node, thrusting shallowly into his rippling valve. Megatron cried out, his backstrut arching off the ground. Optimus felt claws prick the back of his helm as he bent forward to suckle his anterior node once more, laving the clit between his glossa and blowing hot vents against it. He alternated, kissing it and sucking deeply, making Megatron arch into him, _ squeal _. Then, he’d roll the glistening node against his glossa once more, a tickle without enough pressure to tip the old warlord over the edge. 

Even still, his spinal strut was taut, as were the thighs that trembled beside Optimus’ helm. His heels were dug into the berth, and his ex-vents were trembling, shrill things. 

Optimus rubbed his ceiling node, thrusting sharply into it. His servos squelched within the gaping valve, lubricant pooling beneath them and into his palm. The Prime couldn’t help a low, shaky moan himself, fixing his optics on Megatron. He was a sight, drawn tight like a bow, his sweet moans falling freely. A sight only for him. 

“Megatron.” He growled, that deep baritone reverbing straight against his leaking valve. Megatron’s hips jumped, and he yowled, his mesh _ squeezing _ down on Optimus’ servos. His overload resulted in a sharp crackle of charge, zapping Optimus’ glossa rather delightfully, as he rocked his hips desperately onto that tongue. Megatron’s plating rattled, gasping as he wrung out his overload against Optimus. 

Steam ebbed from the gaps between his greenish plating, scarred face falling slack. 

“Optimus.” He whined, a shaking claw stroking over his face. Optimus hummed and nuzzled into his palm, kissing it. 

“Mmm.” He smiled, sitting back onto his legs. He drug Megatron with him, resting his hips over his lap. Megatron gave a lazy rumble, flickering optics widening slightly when Optimus’ chord spread apart his sensitive valve lips. 

“Mm. Did the Matrix do that?” Megatron managed to quirk a brow. The effect was lost somewhat, in his post-overload haze. “I don’t remember your spike being that big.” 

Optimus offered a sheepish smile. “I believe it did. My entire frame became bigger- I took it as a nicety.” He spread his palm over Megatron’s tight waist. “Of course… You have gotten a little smaller, Megatron.” 

Megatron’s head lolled to the side lethargically. “I needed to reserve fuel in space. Taking on a smaller frame was natural.” 

“Mmm.” Optimus only nodded. He adjusted his hips, letting the bulbous head bump against his valve. Megatron’s thigh tightened against his waist, and Optimus fed his spike into the snug valve. 

He pressed in halfway, relishing in the way his calipers fluttered, squeezed his chord. Megatron ex-vented and rolled his hips. 

Dragging that spike out nearly entirely, Optimus grasped Megatron’s hip tight and _ pulled _ the mech onto his spike. He speared him open entirely, hilting himself into the warm, wet mesh. Megatron shouted in surprise, claws grasping into Optimus’ arm. 

“Prime-!” He gasped, having only that moment as Optimus bent over him before he_ fucked _ him. 

Optimus used his leverage to piston his hips. Deep, measured thrusts that put pressure on his ceiling node each time, blue optics intense. Megatron’s valve was soaking, sucking him in with greedy intent. Megatron twisted, oversensitive still, scratching marks into Optimus’ forearm. 

His mouth hung open, rasping out sharp cries to every pound that hammered his ceiling node. Optimus thrummed softly, enjoying the squeeze against his spike and the easy, wet slide. He let his chord press in deeper, _ deeper _, kissing the seal to Megatron’s gestation tank and relishing how Megatron gave a shout. 

“Megatron. You feel _ wonderful _ .” He murmured shakily, bending the old warlord in half, squeezing dents into his waistline. “ _ Ohh. _” His spike pulsed as Megatron clamped down on him, legs firmly wrapped about his hips. 

Optimus nuzzled into his neck, biting down. Megatron whined, unable to squirm away from the pressure of the Prime bearing down on him, _ in _ him. His valve quivered in a second overload, gushing lubricant and clenching tightly on the chord that relentlessly fragged him open.

“Optimus, _ ah, n-nh _ …” A more broken cry, optics squeezing shut. “ _ D-damn _ you, I _ can’t _…”

Optimus growled, his servos clenching into fists. “Just a little longer, Megatron. For me. I know you can.”

So much looser and wetter, Megatron was falling limp in his hold. Unfocused optics flickered on and off. His legs jostled weakly, occasionally trying to pull Optimus in deeper. The Prime rumbled, nuzzling his helm affectionately. His thrusts became unfocused, shallow and rough. His spike was still thick enough to bump into Megatron’s ceiling node, resulting in sweet, broken cries and clenching of his valve. 

Finally, Optimus gave a low bellow, hilting his spike as he hit his peak. Megatron twitched and sighed to the sensation of lava-hot transfluid gushing inside of him, drawing him to a third, smaller peak. His valve cycled down weakly, milking every heavy pulse that filled his valve full.

Optimus rumbled, kissing his facial dermal affectionately, rocking his hips. He took note of the wings fluttering weakly against the berth and hummed, drawing his softening spike from Megatron’s abused valve. As he lowered his hips, the gush of transfluid made a mess of his lap without anything to plug it in. 

Megatron moaned weakly at the sensation and battered Optimus’ head as the Prime gave his valve an experimental lick. 

“Nngh. _ No _, Prime.” 

Optimus drew away. “Too much?”

“Too soon.” Megatron groused, face nearly a pout.

Optimus hummed in lieu of response, instead pulling the messy mech closer. 

A shaky claw stroked over his helm and finials, playing with them. Soft strokes between two fingers, rubbing them back, watching them flick back up. The familiarity of the touch had Optimus purring softly, nuzzling against his chest. He let his optics slide closed, listening to the rumble of Megatron’s engine. 

It was a good thing the junkyard was its own soundproofing, he supposed. He wasn’t sure if Megatron’s pride would ever recover from being heard like that by anyone. Much less a handful of mechlings and humans.

He smiled at the thought and shook his helm, pressing a few kisses to Megatron’s chin. 

Megatron’s venting was shallow, his field flickering between awareness and recharge. He fought against everything, didn’t he? Optimus rolled to the side and pulled him closer, curling against his frame. Megatron let out a low sigh, relaxing into his frame. 

They’d snuck away from council members and next door neighbors whenever Megatronus had dared sneak into Iacon for a…. _ visit _. Optimus was fairly certain they could outsmart a gaggle of teenagers to get presentable in the morning. 

Bumblebee was another story- but, he’d had no desire to poke his nose into their affairs. 

There was a certain air of familiar mischief around it all, though. Sneaking behind backs, frantically buffing out paint transfers and popping out dents. The knowing, dishonest smiles as they made excuses for being late.

As he slipped off into recharge, Optimus had to admit It was nice feeling so young again.


End file.
